


here is a brighter garden

by flamingandrea



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Temporary Character Death, she gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingandrea/pseuds/flamingandrea
Summary: nott dies. nott lives.
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Nott
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	here is a brighter garden

it doesn’t hurt, this time around. 

the last time, it was nothing but pain—her lungs screaming for oxygen that would never come, the water clouded with blood that the ungentle claws pinning her down rend from her flesh, the harsh sound of jeering from above—it was long, and drawn-out, and it hurt a lot. 

but this time, it is quick. the lock makes a little clicking noise—not the one that means she got it right, but a different one, higher pitched, like pressure being released. a sudden cold washes over her, and then everything is dark. 

it doesn’t hurt. 

when she opens her eyes, she is under the night sky. 

it is beautiful. stars twinkle overhead, familiar constellations easily visible. she picks out the twinkling arrangements of the ferret, the watcher, the sword, the ship, the scholar, the fern—and only then does she think to consider where she is, _ how _ she is. 

everything around her is dark, her surroundings almost impossible to discern, but this doesn’t make her feel like it usually would. in fact, she has never felt more at peace. 

it’s strange, this feeling. less of an emotion on its own, and more the absence of something she hadn’t known was there—the tight little ball of anxious, fearful nerves, kept close to the center of her chest, by her heart—it’s gone. she feels, for the first time in weeks, months, maybe years, content. relaxed. unworried. 

a voice whispers in her ear. 

_ hello, little one. _

_ hello? who’s there? _

_ you have been very brave, you know. you have come very far. you think you walk unseen, but i see you. _

_ who are you? _

_ you know who i am, nott the brave. _

_ that’s not my real name. _

_ isn’t it? what are names but the passing collection of words that we choose to make our own? did you not claim this title? _

_ i didn’t want it. they made me take it. _

_ they made you take nothing. you chose life, and you chose survival. you took that name as yours when you had nothing else. _

_ what do you want with me? _

_ i don’t want anything. i offer you a choice. they are calling for you, you know. they love you. _

_ they shouldn’t. _

_ you truly believe that, don’t you. it matters not; the only thing that matters here is your choice. _

she looks down at where the others wait; it is but a moment, a brief flash of time that moves too slow. her wizard, still scruffy, still dirty, even after all this time, cradles her close. she is far away, but even she can see the tears on his cheeks. he is rocking her slowly, and she hears what his mind whispers. 

_ do not let me lose another. please. i cannot lose another. _

behind him, the monk and the warlock-turned-paladin watch in horror. beau looks like she wants to step forward, but she is frozen. desperation and rage war on her face, and her fists clench, like she’s ready to fight the gods themselves. 

_ c’mon, jessie, bring her back. she doesn’t deserve this. we don’t deserve this. don’t make us go through this again. _

fjord is carefully blank, a well-worn mask slotting into place, a practiced defense. his features give away nothing; only the tremble in his knees betray his thoughts. 

_ it’s happening again. family always leaves. why does this always happen? please, don’t let this happen again. _

the two clerics confer, one desperate, and one unfazed. caduceus is quiet, measured, calm, as he recites components and spells and digs around in his bag. were it not for the slight furrow in his brow, he would look almost relaxed. 

_ always catches up eventually, huh. sorry, wildmother, think this one’s a smidgeon too soon. _

jester is trembling, frantic, her lip wobbling and her eyes wet. she reaches for a diamond, uncaring of cad’s hesitant warnings, and her breaths come a little bit too fast. 

_ help me out here, traveler, ok? we make a good team, you know, i need her back. please give her back. _

jester clutches the diamond tightly, murmuring the important words into it. ever so carefully, she reaches out, and places it above—

above—

nott has seen mirrors. of course she has. she has seen puddles and windows and shiny baubles that all reflect the same picture, and it’s— it’s wrong. 

skin an ugly green where it should be warm freckled brown. eyes, even closed, that are shaped all weird, larger and bugging out and unnatural. claws where there should be gentle callouses, sharp angles where there should be soft curves, stringy dark strands where there should be messy braids. it’s all wrong, and she hates it, and she doesn’t want it. she doesn’t want it. 

_ you would leave them behind? _

_ i’m not much good to them either way, really. _

_ that’s not for me to say, but they certainly seem to want you back. you hear them as i do. _

_ they might be sad for a bit, but they would get over it. _

_ would they? it’s been nearly a year, and they still grieve over the other fallen. _

_ yeah, well, he was different. he was valuable. i’m just... nott. _

_ is that the only reason? _

_ do i need another? _

_ devoted as you are? ignoring the pleading of your most loved, your dearest, your second family? yes. _

she listens again. she tries to will the strength into her heart. she tries to let their words and thoughts play again in her mind. 

the only thing she can conjure is the body—the body that’s all wrong. 

_ you said it was a choice. _

_ it is. _

_ i’m so tired. i don’t want a body that’s not mine. i’m so tired. _

there is a pause, like deliberation. when the voice comes again, it is impossibly gentle.

_ then rest. _

she hears the words calling for her, jester’s sweet voice begging the traveler for her help. she feels the spell reach, the shimmering mist offering her a bridge back to life; to hardship and trial and suffering. she feels it brush against her soul, tugging gently, trying to lure her back. 

she whispers an apology no one but the gods can hear, and tells the spell: _ i am not willing. _

behind her, she feels it start to fail. she cannot quite seen as the diamond blackens and the shards scatter away from her prone form, but she can sense it. she knows what must be happening, what her friends must be thinking. she is resolute. she is so tired of fighting for a world that will never be fair, for a body stolen that might well never be reclaimed, for a group of broken and misfit people without a happy ending in sight. she is so tired. she wants to rest. 

for a moment, there is stillness, and she thinks: _ at last— _

and then a hand grips her soul. 

_ my jester is not ready to let you go quite yet, brave nott. _

she is being pulled back. she struggles, strength fleeting, craving the soft warmth and darkness that she knows is waiting for her just beyond, a reprieve for a weary soul, but a magic and a love stronger than her exhaustion drag her back. she is shoved at the wrong body, and she resists; she does not want to go back, _ do not make her go back—! _

she is not willing, but what is a mortal’s wishes to a god?

the hand is insistent. there is a flash of light, a pressure on her chest.

and she breathes. 

and it hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> skssjajhsjsjsjdhdh im dying scoob


End file.
